The Scorpius and Rose Anthology
by Beware of the Nargles
Summary: Lots about Scorpius Malfoy, Rose Weasley, and the awesomeness  and cuteness  of the two together.  A mix of oneshots, drabbles, songfics and who knows what else?
1. Chapter 1: excuse the wall

_DISCLAIMER:: None of the characters belong to me, yup, they're all JK's. We all know that Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and we know I'm not her. Why, you ask? Uh, DUH, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction if I were. Plus, there'd already be an eighth book. _

A/N: I'm back with something new! Yes, I haven't done much improving on my other stories, but one day I'll get new versions up of all of them!

Fans of Rose/Scorpius, this is for you! I have so many little one-shots and two-shots and drabbles and perhaps longer stories bouncing around my head for these two next-gen characters. But because they are next-gen, I'm still in the midst of refining their personalities, etc, because it's very much up to me (and their parents, of course). So, think of these as character-development studies (and a way for me to procrastinate). Sorry about the fact that Rose isn't in this first chapter, but I am so intrigued by Scorpius and generally feel a lot of sympathy for him. Anyway, we'll hopefully be seeing them both together soon, but I don't know exactly where this is going yet.

**OOH: I have a POLL up on my profile that lets you choose which houses you'd like Rose & Scorp to be in. Drop by and give your opinion, I might well use the popular choices in here because their houses are still UNDECIDED!**

So I really hope you like this "Anthology" and please please please if you read, drop a REVIEW! Seriously, I'll be grateful for anything, a compliment, constructive criticism - hell, even flames welcome (though not as appreciated!). I'm doing this because I love to write. And I would love to improve my writing. Give me a hand. Make my day.

Thanks.

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"**It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." ~ **Albus Dumbledore

_Excuse the mess, I didn't see you from behind  
I caught a glimpse, but the reflection's only mine  
It's almost like I'm paralyzed and locked outside myself  
What I don't need is to concede because I won't be someone else_

**_Why did he look so much like his father?_ **They'd always had similar features – the same pointed, haughty chin; equally cool, stormy eyes; the familiar white-blond hair.

To the outside world, his appearance seemed to define him, or perhaps indicate that he was a carbon copy of his father.

It was just as everyone worshipped the Potters, especially Albus, solely because he was the exact image of the hero of the Wizarding world, (minus the scar). His name, too, added to the hype, for everyone looked up to the boy with the genius headmaster's name.

**_What's in a name?_** The ability to make people respect and adore you, the first impression that was crucial if you ever wanted to belong.

Or vice versa.

He'd quickly realised that he didn't even have to state his last name for strangers to know him. Think that they knew him. He understood that _**"Scorpius"**_ alone, coupled with his familiar appearance, was enough to alert people to his ancestry. Even expecting a harsh reaction halfway through his last name, _**"Mal-"**_, the stares and glares, the violent shock and sudden prejudice were, every single time, a punch to his gut. Sometimes he really did feel like doubling over and clutching hard at something to prevent his hands balling up into fists.

Occasionally he'd maintain what dignity he could preserve – though Scorpius felt that he'd never been given any scraps of pride in himself; that it was an impossible feat – and walk away.

There was no point lingering and loitering near the sneering faces. No use, because after the first reaction, their impression of him would be set in stone, even if he'd been nothing but polite, nothing like their memories or preconceptions of his father or himself.

The strange thing was, not once had he blamed his father for the mess he'd been born into. He _couldn't_ lay the blame on his parents and grandparents, for they were the only ones who cared about him. And it didn't matter what they'd done, because Scorpius could live in peace as long as he wasn't the one to have done it.

His family had always confessed they'd done everything for each other, blindly risking the consequences of the Dark Lord's downfall... but in the end, they'd survived, clung tightly to their splintering life and were allowed to keep the shreds of it.

In the end, they were his family.

In the end, he was a Malfoy.

But now and in the end and forever afterwards, he would only be one person; himself.

His life would only be what he made of it.

He would be Scorpius.

_Excuse the wall, I put it up from time to time  
A silver shade, but the design is all mine  
It's just a maze that everyday I seem to be stuck in  
It never seems to fade away but I pray for the day it ends_

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_Lyrics _(((Better Version – Shinedown)))

If you've made it to the end of the first chapter, please review!


	2. Chapter 2: shattered light

**Hey again!** Another chapter, guys, I hope you like it. Yes, I suppose most chapters of this will skip around a bit, focussing on different aspects of Scorp, Rose and the both of them together. This one's written similarly to the first, mostly thought- and dream-wise... but in future, expect some more 'reality' based, dialogue and action. Anyway, if you read, please... wait for it... REVIEW! ('Kay, thanks, bye!)

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_It's 3 A.M. and I can't sleep without you  
I think I've found the perfect words to say  
The shattered light transmits my voice  
Sometimes we don't have a choice  
I'd wake you up from half a world away_

She was in his dream again. For a while, he just watched her there behind the lids of his eyes, but after a while he tried to push her out. 'Just one peaceful, uninterrupted night would be great,' he thought, dismayed. He attempted to block his consciousness against her, to build walls around his thoughts and ultimately, _forget that she existed. _

Of course, being alert only in his subconscious, there was not much he could do besides jerk himself awake. Even as his eyelids trembled and quivered open, his stormy eyes glinting in the darkness, she showed up again right in front of him, her image flooding into every crack in his mind until there was nothing left of the flood barrier; there was just her.

Stubborn as always, she turned away and seemed to start walking; going nowhere, but there was still the habitual bounce in her purposeful gait that signified self-belief and confidence.

Confidence, but never overconfidence. No, she was never arrogant, though sometimes if annoyed, her expression would turn mildly haughty. Her other occasional frown would be of exasperation. He was familiar with that face – she often used it in the more mundane classes they shared – and though she hardly knew him, he'd seen the features of it more than once glaring his way without reason.

Scorpius watched her dainty feet rise and fall, touching nothing and reaching who-knows-where with every step. The rhythm was oddly comforting, though he could only hear the light footsteps in his head. But his gaze ascended slowly, past the school skirt she was wearing, up above her waist to the small of her back which was where the longest curls of her hair settled. Like always, her hair fell without abandon in wild frizz, the colour of copper; rust; and when the sun caressed the auburn waves, each strand seemed to glow like polished bronze. At times it could be as bushy as her mother's at that age – not that his father would ever have shown him a picture; his father generally refused to recall the past and ignored any echoes of it that crept up on him – but Scorpius had seen enough pictures of the illustrious "Golden Trio" in the Daily Prophet to have her parents' appearances branded at the back of his eyes.

Why couldn't she leave him alone? It was all his own fault, of course, the fact that she was always on his mind … because that was the only location Scorpius could ever be less than ten feet away from her. Truly, one glance at her while roaming the school was enough to have all eyes on him and her scrambling away as fast as she was able. Or so it seemed.

He wished he could get to know her. He really wished he could, but there was no conceivable means of evening holding a civilised, _private_ conversation. It always felt that as soon as he stepped into the range of one of the Potters or Weasleys, stares would bore tiny pinpricks of disapproval into him, and these would swell into huge gouges of condemnation, as if a chisel was carving into his unworthy self and though he wouldn't dare to show it, the loathing was slowly making him crumble.

And the revulsion wasn't from the famous kids, just the whole world around them – all their supporters, followers, admirers… they didn't understand his unfortunate situation, didn't care to empathise or forgive.

Scorpius lived with it. That barrier in his young teenage life was nothing compared to the hurdle facing him if he wanted to achieve one of his innermost ambitions: seeing her smile at him. Just once, he wanted to see her features light up…

Even now, she wouldn't face him; he sought out any memories of her looking his direction, even a simple side profile, but every expression he found had a flaw. Sometimes her hair covered half her face like an angry mane, her cheeks flushed passionately beneath it; occasionally the steely glint in her cobalt eyes was too harsh to meet; he'd see a scowl, a furrowed brow; an exhausted yawn. It was never right, she was never completely content, refusing to be blissfully relaxed…not when he was there.

Scorpius gazed at the figure in front of him, willing there to be a moment when she'd turn and see him for perhaps the first time. He just wanted to discover if there was any likeness of the person he had always blindly, _faithfully_, seen in her. But his being around always corrupted that person, and he couldn't find a way to mend that.

Of course, in the darkness and the silence of his lonely thoughts, with her retreating figure, the words sprung to his lips without hesitance… there was so much he wanted to say, to explore and realise. If only he could see a smile, a beam that reached her eyes and infected others with warmth… perhaps he could bridge the separate worlds they resided in, if only for a moment. If only she'd look back…

"_**Please, Rose…"**_

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_Lyrics _(((Home – Goo Goo Dolls)))


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